


love is their whole happiness

by thekardemomme



Series: Spierfeld Week [5]
Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Slow Dancing, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 03:23:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14323476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekardemomme/pseuds/thekardemomme
Summary: He’s probably going to say no,Bram’s subconscious reminds him. And yeah, Bram’s well aware of that. But at this point, he has nothing to lose. Simon is the closest male friend he has that his dad’s never met before. Plus—Simon’s gay. So it works out. He’s the most likely person to agree to be Bram’s fake boyfriend at his parents’ wedding.(Also, it’d just be really nice to be Simon’s boyfriend for a little while. Even if it’s just pretend.)





	love is their whole happiness

**Author's Note:**

> i dont really like this fic at all but i really, really wanted to get something out today so here it is. please forgive me for any mistakes, i edited this at 2am after the work shift from hell (aka: working in a totally full restaurant on prom night and having to tell people without reservations that there's an hour and a half wait for seating. yikes.) but i did my best, and i hope y'all like it!!
> 
> title from try a little tenderness by otis redding  
> day 6 of spierfeld week: fake dating

Bram shuts the bathroom door a bit too hard behind himself, pressing his back against it. He closes his eyes and takes several deep, deep breaths. He didn’t know, going into this, how stressful it was going to be. From suit fittings to cake tastings and picking from three identical centerpieces—planning a wedding was really difficult. Especially when the bride and groom are your (soon to be) stepmother and your father, and you’re the best man.

He knew it was going to be a bit hard, at least emotionally. But he was almost an adult. He knew he could handle it. What he couldn’t handle, as it turns out, is his stepmother going full bridezilla and turning every planning session into a full blown argument. Tonight, she’d started yelling because Bram had suggested buttercream frosting for the cake.

Bram steps forward, leaning over the sink and turning on cold water to splash his face with. He’s not sure if it’ll actually help him calm down, but people on TV do it a lot, so. He does, too. Some water gets on the floor but it doesn’t matter. The cold does kind of shock him out of his mind.

There’s a knock on the door almost as soon as Bram turns the faucet off. “Bram?” His dad’s voice floats through. “Are you okay? Listen, she’s really sorry. Things are just a bit stressful right now, and it’s easy to snap.”

“Yeah.” Bram opens the door, faces his dad. “It’s fine. The wedding is in two weeks. Only 14 days left until this ends.”

“I’m sorry, Bram.”

“I’m just going to focus on perfecting my toast.”

His dad nods, “That’s probably a good idea. I know how much it means to you to have the perfect words for everything.” Bram assumes it’ll be the end of the conversation, but his dad just stands there, lingering. “Are you, um. Are you bringing anyone?”

“To the wedding?” Bram asks, and his dad nods once. “Like, a date?” His dad nods again. Bram starts to shake his head, tell the truth and say he doesn’t have anyone to bring. But his dad is trying to hard to relate, to find something to lighten the rift between them, that Bram can’t bring himself to say it. “Yeah, I, uh, I asked my boyfriend to come with me. If-If that’s okay?”

A relieved look crosses his dad’s face. “That’s great, Bram! That’s amazing. I can’t wait to meet him.” He smiles, big and bright, and Bram sees where everyone gets it when they say that he and his dad have the same smile.

Bram smiles back and nods once, before accusing himself and making his way to his room. He can hear his stepmom complaining to someone over the phone, and it makes him want to shove a pillow over his head just to muffle the sound. But he doesn’t. Instead, he opens his phone and texts the lunch table group chat.

 **Bram Greenfeld**  
_I’m going to smother myself with a pillow before tonight is over._

 **Abby Suso** **  
** _will miss u_

 **Bram Greenfeld**  
_Thanks, Abby_

 **Abby Suso** **  
** _ <3 _

**Leah Burke** _  
_ _Everything ok?_

 **Bram Greenfeld**  
_Wedding planning._ _  
_ _My stepmother went full Godzilla because I suggested that buttercream frosting might taste better on their wedding cake than lemon frosting._

 **Garrett Laughlin**  
_lol_

 **Simon Spier** ****  
_Shit. That sucks, I’m sorry Bram_ _  
_ _ <3 _

**Bram Greenfeld**  
_ <3 _

Bram turns his phone off, trying not to smile too hard over Simon’s text. It’s just—the heart. Bram can’t get the heart out of his mind. Simon never uses emojis, so that heart has to mean something. Right? Simon wouldn’t just randomly use a heart.

Maybe he’s thinking about it too much.  

***

Bram stares nervously at Simon’s locker. He knows that Simon won’t be here for at least another couple of minutes, and that’s why he’s standing there, trying to get the courage to approach him. Which is kind of funny, really, because Simon is one of the most approachable people he’s ever met. But Bram can’t do it without fear of getting all blushy and tongue-tied. Cute boys get him that way.

 _He’s probably going to say no,_ Bram’s subconscious reminds him. And yeah, Bram’s well aware of that. But at this point, he has nothing to lose. Simon is the closest male friend he has that his dad’s never met before. Plus—Simon’s gay. So it works out. He’s the most likely person to agree to be Bram’s fake boyfriend at his parents’ wedding.

(Also, it’d just be really nice to be Simon’s boyfriend for a little while. Even if it’s just pretend.)

Simon walks up, then. He opens his locker and starts digging around for his English textbook, and Bram braces himself. This is it, his last chance. The wedding is this weekend and it’s getting down to the wire. He has to ask Simon. Now or never.

His feet barely make the short walk across the hall, but he manages. And he opens his mouth to greet Simon, but then Simon is _smiling_ at him, and his voice stops working. “Hey, Bram,” Simon grins, reaching out for one of those high-five/bro-hug type things. The simple touch burns electric on Bram’s skin, and he wonders how he’d manage to touch Simon like this and _more_ for one entire evening.

“Hi,” Bram chokes out, and then he mentally slaps himself. Breathe, Bram, Christ. “Um, okay, I’m just going to jump right into it. I’ll totally understand if you say no, okay? But I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor.”

Simon closes his locker, and then leans against it. His face is still so soft and happy, and Bram feels himself relax. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“You know how my dad’s wedding is this Saturday?” He asks, and Simon nods. “Well, see, he asked me if I was bringing anyone. Things have been so stressful for him and he just looked so hopeful, so… I lied. I told him that I was bringing a boyfriend. The thing is, I don’t actually _have_ a boyfriend. Which leaves me in quite a sticky situation, as you can probably guess. So I guess I just came to ask you if-if you’d be okay with coming to the wedding with me?”

“You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend?” Simon asks, and Bram nods. There’s no anger or disgust or even reluctance on Simon’s face. He just looks amused. “Okay. Sure. That could be fun. Why me, though?”

Bram blushes. “You’re my closest guy friend that my dad hasn’t met. He wouldn’t believe me if I brought someone off of the soccer team. Also, you’re actually gay. I figured it would be easier for you to, you know, act like a boyfriend.”

“Fair enough. So, the wedding is this Saturday starting at 7?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. I’ll pick you up at 6.”

Bram smiles, relief washing over him. Not only does he have a (fake) date with Simon Spier, but he also has a (fake) boyfriend to bring to his dad’s wedding. Everything is working out.

“Cool,” Bram agrees. “See you then.”

***

Having the house to himself is a rare occurrence, but one that Bram appreciates more and more as he gets older. His stepmother and his father have been at the ceremony venue since early this morning to get ready there. Bram had opted to get ready at home—mostly because he really, really wants Simon to pick him up so they can arrive together. Arriving at an event holding Simon Spier’s hand is something that Bram thought he’d only ever have in his daydreams.

The suit is stiff and uncomfortable. It’s a dark navy blue, perfectly tailored to Bram’s body, and he _hates_ it. But maybe Simon will think he looks nice in it. Bram, for one, certainly can’t wait to see Simon in a suit. He’s never really seen Simon in anything other than his all-hoodie wardrobe, so a suit is definitely on his Things I Want To See Simon Wear list. Also on that list is a swimsuit and, admittedly, Bram’s clothing. He blushes at the thought of it.

Across the room, his phone buzzes. It’s 5:57pm, and the text is from Simon.

 **Simon Spier**  
_Rapunzel, let down your hair!_ _  
_ _I’m outside just waiting to be let inside your castle_

Bram snorts. He’s seen Simon’s house, it’s much nicer and definitely more castle-like than his own. But Bram can play along. He walks over to his bedroom window to find Simon standing outside of his car, clearly debating whether or not to continue his joke or just go knock on the front door. Bram considers throwing the window open and waving down at Simon. Instead, he takes the stairs two at a time as he runs to the door.

Simon is just about to knock when Bram pulls the door open. He’s a little embarrassed by his eagerness, but Simon just smiled. “Hey! You look amazing,” Simon compliments immediately, and suddenly Bram doesn’t think the suit is all that uncomfortable anymore.

“Really?” Bram asks, looking down at it. Simon nods. “Thanks. You look…” He struggles to find the right words for how Simon looks. He’s in a light grey suit, one that’s obviously been tailored to him and not rented. His tie is just a couple of shades  lighter red than Bram’s maroon one, and there’s a silver tie clip on it. The tie clip alone makes Simon look one hundred times more sophisticated. His hair, which is usually perpetually messy, is now neatly styled and it looks _so fucking good._ Bram doesn’t think there’s a word in the English language to accurately describe how gorgeous Simon looks.

Simon laughs, bringing Bram out of his ogling. “Is the silence a bad thing?” Simon asks, tugging on his lapels. Bram shakes his head rapidly.

“No, no. You look breathtaking. I mean—” He cuts himself off, blushing a lot harder. _Breathtaking._ There’s no platonic way to say someone looks breathtaking. “I just mean you look really good.”

“Thanks.” Simon smiles, bright and so freaking beautiful. “Are you ready to go?”

Bram nods, patting his pockets to make sure he has his phone, keys, and wallet. “Yeah, I’m ready if you are.” He follows Simon to his car, and slides into the front seat. Bram’s ridden in Simon’s car many times, but never shotgun. Leah’s always shotgun. It makes Bram feel VIP to sit here.

When the car starts, Otis Redding fills the small space. Simon blushes and reaches to turn it down, telling Bram he can change it to whatever song he likes. Bram just turns the volume back up a little.

“So,” Simon says, as they’re pulling out of the driveway, “is this a traditional Jewish wedding?”

“No. My stepmom’s a Baptist, and since it’s her first wedding and my dad’s second wedding, he just kind of let her do whatever.”

Simon nods thoughtfully. “Is that why she’s been all bridezilla?”

“Probably,” Bram sighs. “Because my dad enables it.”

“After today, it’s all over. And, if they’re going on a honeymoon…”

Bram sighs overdramatically, putting his hands over his heart. “They’re going to Bali for a week and a half. It’s like they’re giving _me_ a wedding present instead of vice versa.” Simon laughs, genuinely laughs, and Bram wants to hear that one thousand more times. Especially if he’s the one causing it.

On the way to the venue, they come up with a story. They met at school, of course, and started dating about four months ago. They haven’t told anyone because Bram’s only just come out and Simon had a tough coming out. (The last part is true, which makes Bram’s heart hurt whenever he thinks about it.)

When they get there, Bram’s nerves settle in. He’s going to have to read his toast in front of everyone, including Simon. And he’ll have to try not to have an anxiety attack amongst all the chaos.

“Hey,” Simon says, as they climb out of his car and start walking in, “you’re not alone in this. I’m right here.” Then their fingers are interlaced, and Simon is squeezing his hand reassuringly. Bram just hopes his palms aren’t sweaty.

“Abraham!” They hear the second they walk in.

Bram’s grandmother comes barreling towards them, arms wide open with red-lipped smile—a nervous kind of excited. Bram drops Simon’s hand to pull her into a hug, and then grabs it again as soon as they’re apart.

“And who is this handsome young man?” She smiles, turning to Simon.

Simon reaches out to shake her hand. “I’m Simon, it’s nice to meet you,” he smiles, and Bram’s grandmother gives Bram and impressed look.

“Such a gentleman.”

Bram blushes. “Simon’s my boyfriend. Simon, this is my grandmother.” She and Simon both smile at each other, and Bram starts tugging on Simon’s arm. “Okay, come on, we have to go find my dad so I can figure out where he wants me.”

“Should I just go sit down?” Simon asks, and Bram’s grandmother jumps in again, looping her arm through his.

“Simon and I are going to sit, Abraham,” she announces. Bram knows there’s no arguing with her on that one. “You go find your dad. We’ll see you later. Come on, now, baby, we have to get a seat in the front.”

Bram’s tempted to follow. Partly because he doesn’t want to leave Simon out there to fend for himself, and partly because he doesn’t want to face his father. But he makes his feet walk towards the back room, where his father is tying his tie. Bram knocks on the door frame before stepping in.

“Bram,” his dad smiles, “I’m so glad you made it. Where’s this boyfriend you were telling me about?”

“I’m the best man, dad, of course I made it. And Simon got kidnapped by grandma.”

“Simon,” he says, thoughtfully. Like he’s trying out the name. “I’m sure he’s having a great time out there with our family.”

Bram chuckles, “She’s probably scaring him off.”

His dad smiles, and then refocuses on tying his tie. Bram can’t say he’s surprised. They’ve never really been that close, him and his father. Not for lack of trying, it’s just the way things worked out. And as unfortunate as it is, Bram can’t shake the weird feeling he gets under his skin whenever him and his father spend too much time together.

Pretty soon, they’re rushed out to the ceremony hall. Bram stands behind his father, anxiety tipping his stomach dangerously close to being nauseated. He searches Simon out in the crowd, finding him squeezed in between his grandmother and his aunt. Simon smiles encouragingly at him, and Bram focuses on that to keep the nausea at bay.

It’s hard not to stare at Simon through the whole ceremony. Simon is like his lighthouse—directing him to the shore when Bram is drifting too far out to sea. He certainly shines just as bright as one. Bram’s drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

After the ceremony, the doors open and everyone floods to the reception hall. Bram doesn’t hesitate to leave the altar and find Simon in the crowd. It’s not that difficult, because Simon is looking for him, too.

“Is it normal to cry at the wedding of someone you don’t even know?” Simon asks as he approaches Bram, wiping under his eyes.

Bram falls in love twenty times harder. “I think it’s normal to cry at all weddings.” He grabs Simon’s hand and pulls him in closer, because he can. “I hope my grandma and my aunt didn’t scare you too much. They can be pretty intense.”

“So can my family, don’t worry. They were really nice. I think your cousin might be a little bit in love with me.”

“She’s not the only one,” Bram blurts, and then instantly regrets it. He’d forgotten, for a moment, that this was all just pretend. The second he notices the way Simon’s eyes widen, he backtracks. “Want to go get a drink? We might be able to snag some champagne.”

Simon nods. “Yeah, uh, sure.” He slides their palms together again, but he stares at Bram the whole time. Bram wishes he’d stop fucking staring so he can blush in peace.

They do manage to get some champagne, even though they’re not legal. It’s pink and bubbly and tastes like candy. Simon has two glasses before he cuts himself off, insisting he’s a sloppy drunk and he doesn’t want to embarrass Bram at a family wedding. Bram stares dead at him while knocking two full champagne flutes down like shots. Simon laughs, and tucks himself into Bram’s side. That’s what boyfriends do, right?

Bram comes out to a total of 31 family members all before they sit down for dinner. The champagne gives him enough courage to do so, but Simon’s arm wrapped his waist gives him the _pride_ he knows he needs. And it’s also just pretty nice to tell people he has a boyfriend.

“That’s one thing I hate about being gay,” Simon says as they sit down at their table. “Having to come out about 10,000 times. Coming out once is hard enough, you know?”

“I agree,” Bram nods. “After I came out to my mom, I never wanted to do it again. Now it’s almost daily.”

“I wish I’d gotten to tell people on my terms. I think it would’ve been easier.” Empathy twists in Bram’s stomach. It must show on his face, because Simon quickly tries to dismiss it. “I mean, everything’s fine now. It happened, but it’s over now. I can’t change it. I’m really not upset about it. Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.”

Bram puts his hand on Simon’s thigh. “You didn’t,” he reassures. Simon smiles softly at him, and puts his hand over Bram’s. Their fingers twist together, holding just slightly. It isn’t until dinner is placed in front of them that Bram realizes no one can see their hands, and the gesture had been for their eyes only.

Dinner goes smoothly. He and Simon don’t talk much, instead just eating. The food is okay. Nothing too remarkable. And anyway, Bram can’t really enjoy it. His stomach is in knots as they inch closer and closer to the time for him to read his best man toast. He’s pretty sure he’s memorized it, pretty sure all of his words are exactly what he wants them to be—but what if they’re not?

The maid of honor toast is first. There’s not a dry eye in the room when she’s done, not even on Simon. When Bram’s dad looks over, Bram is sure to lean over and ask if Simon’s okay. When Bram’s dad turns away, Simon leans back to ask if _Bram_ is okay.

Bram goes to his feet when the maid of honor hands him the microphone. Simon squeezes his hand once, like an anchor, and then claps for him like the rest of the room. It gives him both courage and pride.

“Hi, everyone,” Bram begins, his voice the slightest bit shaky. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Bram Greenfeld, the groom’s son. I want to thank everyone who found the time to come out tonight—Lord knows _I’ve_  ‘come out’ about eighteen times tonight, at least.” A lot of people in the room laugh—genuine laughter, not fake, polite laughs. Bram feels a bit more confident. “Anyway, everyone in this room means a lot to us, so it means a lot that you’d be here on such a special day. My dad’s been talking about tonight ever since he met the bride, you know. He came home one night, maybe after their third or fourth date, and he told me he was 100% going to marry this woman. I thought he was drunk. But now, here we are. He’s marrying her and he actually is drunk.”

More laughter. Bram smiles, and fights the urge to look at Simon. “And honestly, I don’t blame him. Not only is she the loveliest bride I’ve ever seen, you look absolutely gorgeous by the way, but she’s the loveliest woman I’ve ever met. I can’t imagine anyone being more perfect for my father than you. And I want to thank you for all of the happiness you’ve brought him over the last year and a half.

“Seeing how you two found each other, it was like two people coming home for the first time in ages. It’s a love some people can only imagine ever feeling for themselves. You two are very, very lucky to have it. And I’m very, very lucky to be able to witness it. Watching you two make the most sacred bond between two people was a privilege and an honor, just as watching this love story unfold was. You two have what I strive to find, and you two are what I strive to be. I wish you two a lifetime of happiness and love. Now, if all of you will join me in raising a glass—”

He reaches down to grab his glass of sparkling apple cider, and accidentally locks eyes with Simon. Maybe it’s overdramatic, but Bram swears the whole world goes silent, stops spinning on its axis. Simon’s eyes are wet—Bram can already hear the joke about how Simon’s never been a crybaby before. But it’s not coming. Simon’s not making jokes, because from the looks of it, he can’t breathe either.

Then Bram’s standing fully, and making a toast. And the world goes back to normal. When he looks at Simon again, it’s normal. It’s pretend.

After everyone finishes eating, Bram’s family takes to the floor to dance. Despite Simon’s highly impressive performance in _Oliver!_ and various other theater productions, he insists he can’t dance. So they sit at their table, nursing their grape juice, and talking. They talk about everything from soccer to centerpieces to life to love. Bram and Simon are friends, but the more they talk, the more Bram realizes he has no idea who Simon Spier is.

But he knows, now. Simon Spier likes sad music. He likes walks on the beach and cheesy romantic gestures, even when he pretends not to. He has a really bad problem with fragments. He likes Oreos an unhealthy amount. He’s funny, and he’s kind, and he’s witty, and he’s smarter than he gives himself credit for. And he _feels_ , a lot and everything. The boy Bram had pictured as untouchable is now the most tangible thing he can think of.

Can’t Help Falling In Love starts playing over the speakers, and the lights dim. Bram rolls his eyes, facing Simon.

“Call me cheesy, but I’ve always dreamed of slow dancing at my wedding to this song,” he admits.

Simon smiles. “I know it’s not _your_ wedding, but you can still dance.” He stands up, holding his hand out to Bram. “May I have this dance, Rapunzel?”

“Oh, we’re back to that?” Bram teases, but accepts Simon’s hand. How could he say no?

They walk out to the dance floor, joining the many slow dancing couples. Bram’s left hand finds Simon’s waist as Simon’s right hand wrap around his neck, their other hands joined together, and they’re so close that Bram can smell his cologne. They’re so close that Bram could lean up and kiss Simon, if he wanted. They haven’t kissed all night, not properly. Simon has kissed his cheek and Bram has kissed Simon’s hand, but they haven’t kissed on the lips. It feels almost juvenile to think of it like that, but it’s true.

“You know,” Simon says, “we deserve a gay love song like this.”

“This could be a gay love song.”

“Yeah, but Elvis wasn’t gay.” Simon smiles, tapping his fingers mindlessly against Bram’s collar, like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. “I nominate Troye Sivan.”

Bram considers it, before shaking his head. “Frank Ocean,” he counters. “Or both. I wouldn’t mind a collaboration.”

“You’ve always been so smart,” Simon compliments, and Bram blushes. “I don’t know how you manage to keep such amazing grades in Mr. Wise’s class. I swear he’s out to get me or something, because I’ve never made an A on an essay, like, ever.”

“Have you ever considered that your essay grades may be due to your sentence fragments and overuse of the word ‘like’?”

Simon blinks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

They’re quiet for the next few moments, just swaying back and forth to the sound of Elvis. Maybe it’s cheesy—Bram is apparently pretty freaking cheesy—but it really does feel like it’s only the two of them.

“What did you mean when you said your cousin wasn’t the only one a little bit in love with me?” Simon asks, a few moments later.

Bram’s all out of liquid courage.

He blushes harder. “Um…” He stares at his feet, watches them move. He pretends he’s trying to avoid stepping on Simon’s foot. “I’m sure there’s plenty of people who are a little bit in love with you, Simon. You’re a… You know.”

“I don’t think there’s many people that are in love with me,” Simon murmurs. “But even if there are, there’s only one I care about. Do you think you’d know if they’re in love with me?”

“Depends who it is,” Bram whispers.

“I think you know who it is.”

“Then yes,” Bram nods. “Yes, that person is in love with you. More than just a little bit, though. I have it on good authority that they love you a lot, and have for quite some time.”

Simon nods in response. “Cool. That’s nice to know.” He smiles, and Bram gets the lighthouse feeling again. “I’d like to kiss you.”

“Then do it.”

So Simon kisses him. It’s the first kiss of the night, and it’s not pretend. It’s real. And Bram didn’t need liquid courage for it, he just needed the pride that came along with Simon’s hand in his.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @femmevilde


End file.
